When we
strive to be aware, many lessons come to us unbidden if we are willing to be
open to them. In an earlier blog, I
wrote of the lessons I had been taught by my dog, Duffy. In the past two
months, lessons and reminders of the presence of the life force in all beings
have come to me from...wait for it...crickets. Three separate crickets, in
three separate places, found their way into rooms in which I happened to be.
Now please understand, in no way do I believe that the crickets were somehow
"sent" to instruct me.
Rather, the repetition of the occurrence caused me to begin thinking
about how my embracing of Buddhist principles has led me to show compassion for
all living beings, even the seemingly insignificant. When I was an assistant
principal, I was known (and occasionally teased) by the students for scooping
ants who wandered into the hall onto a piece of paper and bringing them
outside, while telling the students not to step on them. Any time this
occurred, the students asked me why I did this, since "they're just
ants!" I pointed out that the ants always attempted to escape, indicating
an instinct to protect their life force, and that we had no right to take that
from them since they posed no danger to us whatsoever. I was reminded of this
when I began to think about the crickets, since the last two instances again
occurred in the presence of students with whom I was working during an
anti-bias training.
The first
of the cricket sightings occurred a couple of months ago during a meditation
class I was taking at a local Buddhist meditation center. What immediately
struck me was that, without anyone saying anything to each other, the class
stopped as the priority shifted to gently capturing the cricket and returning
him to the outside. There was no question that this was what needed to happen.
This simple experience was a perfect example of the efficacy and power of
embracing a Buddhist philosophy.
The
second and third occurrences took place at two separate high schools where I
was co-facilitating peer training workshops in which we train students to do
anti-bias activities with freshman classes in their respective schools. In both
cases, the students' first reactions were to try to step on the crickets (who,
fortunately, in both cases, were very good hoppers). I immediately told them,
"Do not kill it, there is no need."
I told them that I am a Buddhist and explained why I did not want the
cricket harmed, and they didn't question it. Even though we couldn't catch
them, the students refrained from trying to hurt them, even as they
occasionally jumped onto someone's leg. When, during a second training session
at the first high school, the cricket reappeared (apparently it had survived
the week), the students themselves said to each other, "Don't kill it...don't
kill it." It may have been that students who had volunteered to train to
work against bias and hatred were predisposed to behave compassionately, but it
could not be denied that in both cases they heard what I said to them and
decided to act accordingly. I honestly believe the next time they encounter an
insect that cannot harm them, they will stop and think about how they should
respond, and in so doing, possibly save a life.
A
philosophy of loving-kindness means means treating all living creatures with
compassion and respect, even ants and crickets. Just ask Jiminy....
